Shoebox
by All I Gave You Was Goodbye
Summary: Hey Mom, what's this?" she asked me. I know this story needed a full explanation, and that's why my shoe boxes full of memories will aid the story.
1. Chapter 1

It was her favorite time of the day: shoebox time.

It may seem a little bizarre, but it's true. My daughter loves going through my big, old shoe boxes of memories and stuff I could careless about now, but was a big deal when I was her age.

She and I have been going through my old shoe boxes since she was about five, and now she's almost fourteen.

She's a curious fourteen-year-old, but a smart one for her age.

At about seven, she'd been done with her homework, considering she got in done at study hall, took a shower, and I'd do her hair while she looked through my memories.

We'd bounce on my bed, both of us in pajamas, laughing at the goofy pictures, or crying at the sad journal entries.

I'd had numerous shoe boxes in my closet, stacked to the ceiling practically, filled with my old teenage days, even though in reality they'd only been practically only a few years ago.

I'm thirty-three now.

I'd explain-

"Hey, Mom, what's this?" she asked me, her brown eyes blinking as her blonde hair was awaiting to be combed.

In her hands was a frame, with a delicate piece of paper neatly placed in it. She seemed totally clueless; she knew what it was. She was just curious as to whose was it.

"That's your birth certificate, sweetie," I said, removing it from her hands to read the data.

I blinked my eyes a few times, and turned on the lamp. I could now clearly read, and I cleared my throat as her eyes were gleaming.

"Sophia Miley, seven pounds, five ounces, 23 inches long."

She peered over next to me, examining the birth document. _Please, don't say it, please..._

"You forgot to read my last name, Mom," she said, giving me a glare. I chuckled nervously.

"Don't you have to be in bed, now?" I asked.

"It's Friday, Mom," she said, getting annoyed. I sighed.

"Sophia Miley Oken," I said, glancing in the other direction. She looked over at me.

"What's wrong, Mom?" she asked me.

"Nothing," I replied.

"Was he a... bad man?" she asked me.

"Not in the least bit, sweetheart."

"Then why isn't he here?" she asked me, "If he's not a bad man, then why'd he leave us? Like I hear you screaming to Aunt Miley before I enter the apartment."

"Because, I'm just mad, Sophie, I'm upset." I started prying the shoebox from my daughter's hands, her tight grip rejecting my light, trying-not-to-be pushy pull.

"No," she said, muttering under her breath.

"Fine," I said, hopping off the bed, leaving my daughter propped on my bed. I'd slammed the door before I'd realized what I'd actually done. My teenage daughter, who could be out with her friends talking about cute boys and boy bands stays in with her mother just to look at how much fun _I _had.

I decided to leave her alone for now and let the both of us cool down before I questioned where Miley was. She said that she was going out for a little while with Jake, but I expected her to be home by now.

Great, now I'm acting like a parent for my _best friend._

I examined the ring on my right hand's ring finger. It wasn't in the right place. So what? If he decides to now visit his wife and daughter in over twelve years, it's his loss.

And Sophia's.

I know I needed to make better choices, but for now, I'm going to let the shoe boxes tell the story with me.

I'm Lillian Truscott-Oken.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I lost inspiration. ):**

"Soph?" I asked, coming in the room. She was taking in all the pictures and journal entries that she hadn't heard me come in.

She looked at me. "Yeah Mom?"

"I'm sorry. It's just- a long story. A really long one."

"I've got time."

"It's pretty long-"

"Yeah, but, Mom, last time I checked, there was a Friday every week." She smiled at me. She had Oliver's brown hair and my blue eyes. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I sat next to her on my bed and went through a few boxes to find how to start the story. I had my old phone in one of the boxes. I turned in on; since I'd gotten a new plan, the only things I could access were the photos and music on it. I also grabbed a few Polaroids from the old days when we'd been kids. I started with those.

"That was me and your father when we'd just met. We were only four/five at the time. We'd both loved Crayola crayons, and when he brought in his 64 pack, I'd gotten over-excited."

"Wow, Mom, you were a dork," she said, laughing. I giggled along with her. "Yeah… if it weren't for those crayons, you probably wouldn't be here."

She looked at me as if I'd been crazy, which made me laugh a little.

"Wow, crayons sure are life-changing," she said. I nodded my head in agreement. I'd started to show her how I'd grown up; the pictures now started to introduce Miley, making our trio. I smiled reminiscing about the fun times. I grabbed my old phone and showed her the pictures of when Oliver and I had first started dating.

"Wow, what a mop head," she said. I laughed; I missed his long brunette hair that got in his eyes whenever he shook his head.

"You guys looked really cute together," she said, smiling. I rubbed her back, happy that she wasn't angry with him like I have been.

"Guys! I'm home!" Miley exclaimed, shutting the door behind her. She'd entered my room in a leather jacket and skinny jeans, placing her bag down outside of the room.

She ran her hands through her hair.

"Aunt Miley!" Sophie exclaimed. Miley and Sophie were close buddies, best friends even. When I couldn't be there, Miley was already there. Miley knew Sophie from the hour she was born.

"Hey, kiddo," she said, sitting next to me. "You wouldn't believe it, Lil-"

"Aunt Miley, mom was just showing me your friend Oliver." Miley eyed me, mouthing the words, 'Does she know?' I mouthed back, 'Yeah.' She shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah, he was a real doughnut head."

"…What does that mean?" Sophie asked, which made Miley and me laugh.

"Nothing. It just means he's goofy."

"Great…" she said, joking around. We'd laughed again.

"Soph, how 'bout we continue next week? Go on Facebook or something," I said. She shrugged, said 'okay', and walked off to the computer room.

"Tell me, how was the date?" I asked.

"It was great. He took me out to a really nice restaurant, then we just went walking on the beach."

"That's nice. While you had a nice evening, I had to explain to my daughter my life story. Why does she even wanna know about him?"

"That's her father, of course she's gonna wanna know a lot about him. That's the other half of who gave her life."

"I technically gave her life, since I was the one carrying her around for nine months!" I defended, joking.

"You know what I mean!" she joked back; we were laughing. I looked down at those pictures. I looked at the most recent one- which had been over thirteen years ago- at our wedding.


End file.
